The elder Mr Thurston was at this time away on a fishing expedition, having allowed himself the rare luxury of a fortnight's holiday. He had been fishing up, or down, the stream from which Nunswell takes its name, and for the last few days had made this little watering-place his headquarters. It was a Friday when Eugenia left Wareborough, and late on the following day, Gerald, having returned to Nunswell, there to spend Sunday in decorous fashion, was strolling in the public gardens-- the very gardens where he had sat and talked with Eugenia, some fifteen or sixteen months ago--the same gardens where, the very next day, "time and chance combining," Beauchamp Chancellor and she had met again--when something familiar, something indefinably suggestive in the gait and bearing of a lady walking slowly a little way in front of him, caught Mr Thurston's attention. He was thinking of Eugenia at the moment. The resemblance of the figure before him to the object of his thoughts struck him suddenly as the explanation of his vague sensation. "If Eugenia were dead," he said to himself, "I should shrink from dispelling the illusion, as no doubt many a ghost could be dispelled; but believing her to be alive and well, I think I should like to see the face of that tall, black-robed lady. Very likely she is old and ugly." And half smiling at his own fancies, he quietly quickened his steps so as to overtake her. It was not difficult to do so. The part of the garden where the two were walking was retired and unfrequented. There was hardly another person within sight. As Gerald's increased pace brought him quickly on a line with the solitary lady, the sounds of his footsteps caught her ear. Just as he passed her, she mechanically turned her face in his direction. Mr Thurston's nerves were under good control, but the start of almost incredulous surprise at seeing his own wild fancy realised, betrayed him into a sudden exclamation. "Eugenia!" he said, impetuously, "Eugenia, is it really you?" And even while he spoke, he looked at her again more closely, with a new fear of being the victim of some extraordinarily strong accidental resemblance. But it was not so. Eugenia's surprise, though considerable, was less overpowering than Gerald's, and she answered him composedly enough. "Yes," she said, with a little smile--a smile that somehow, however, failed to lighten up her face as of old--a poor, pitiful, unsatisfactory attempt at a smile only. "Yes, it is certainly I. Are you very much astonished to see me? Where have you sprung from?" "I have been fishing down the Nun," he replied. "Are you staying here? Is Captain Chancellor here?" "Yes and no," she answered, with a very forced attempt at playfulness. "I am staying here, but alone." "Alone!" he exclaimed in surprise.